Grandpa D. Hits the Road

Published September 10, 2018 in Grandpa Dynamite - 0 Comments

Grandpa D

“So what happened?” texted Grandpa Dynamite

“We said Friday and you ghosted me.

Is that who you are?”

“On Wednesday we said Friday” Violet replied.

“At 9-15 PM on Friday you reach out.

I don’t know what kind of plans those are,

but I was waiting to hear from you.

Is that who you are?”

“Afoot and light-hearted

I take the open road,

Hearty, free, the world before me,

The long brown path

leading me wherever I chose.”

“Oh, I see. You’re a free spirit.

Good for you.” Violet wrote, audibly sighing.

“Henceforth I ask not good fortune,

I myself am good fortune,

Henceforth, I whimper no more,

postpone no more, heed nothing,

Done with indoor complaints,

libraries, querulous criticisms,

strong and content,

I travel the open road.” wrote Grandpa D., with 

flourish in his thumbs.

“That’s it I’m done!” texted Violet, disgusted.

“”You are so full of yourself.”

Seconal

Seconal

Took a hand full

Because who the fuck wants

to be more anxious?

You can keep your

Methedrine buzzcock.

I need to get chill.

And by the way,

You’re dead to me.

I have one rule in life.

You only get to

Disrespect me once.

After that, you’re dead to me.

So just keep dragging

Your little red wagon along.

And just so you know 

My plan is to eviscerate

Your central premise.

I’m going to destroy 

Your big idea

To render your whole operation 

Moot and suspect.

It will be like 

a conceptual Molotov cocktail.

Exploding your brainchild architecture.

Planting doubt in all 

But your most loyal followers.

The First Day of September

Published September 3, 2018 in Leonard - 0 Comments

First Day of September

The helicopter kept circling

with the search light.

Leonard hid in the avocado tree,

Climbed up

About two thirds of the way

and hugged a big branch.

He disappeared.

Became the tree.

His aunt, Tia Tita

Could hear plants

They talked to her.

She hated going to the bank

Because all the plants

were so unhappy.

Every time she went they complained to her.

Leonard heard for the first time

a tree speak to him.

As he hugged it, the avocado tree

Reciprocated, heard him

And hid him from the world.

It said, “You spend so much time in fear.”

N.

Published August 26, 2018 in Artificial Intelligence - 0 Comments

N

I’m tired of being disrespected.
So, I’m not Q.
That doesn’t mean,
I don’t know secrets
or have friends
inside the deep state.

And I’m not M.
But that doesn’t mean,
I’m not capable
of doing scary things.

I’m in a lot of places you don’t even think about.
I’m in the know.
They call me N.

You may be asking,
“Who are they?”
That’s why I’m here.
To find the “they”
and out them on the web,
that has no weaver.

Midnight Ass Itch

Published August 13, 2018 in Max - 0 Comments

Midnight Ass Itch

It was a little after midnight

when it started.

First on the left cheek

on the inside of the crack.

A really inopportune time,

as he was in the middle of a date

that was going rather well, for once.

But it just kept getting worse.

He tried standing and

sitting differently.

“I have to use the little boy’s room.” Max said.

“Hurry back,” she replied,

“ I need to tell you something.”

Blowing him an air kiss.

He bit his lower lip and

practically ran to the bathroom.

The men’s room door was locked.

He couldn’t wait and

stepped into a closet,

pulled down his pants

and started itching like

a violin player.

Suddenly,

a waiter opened the closet door.

And there he was

hand in the cookie jar,

mortified,

forever frozen in time.

Misfits

Published August 8, 2018 in I Don't Even Know , LA Stories - 0 Comments

Misfits

This is Miki.

Rumor has it, he’s one of Monty Clift’s lifetimes.

Reincarnated into a South LA feral cat colony.

Born into a back alley chance.

Adopted by a lunatic, he lucked into

a life off the street.

He’s a hard cuddler,

like deep into your elbow, armpit or chest.

He digs in and loves on you.

Like the street is hard.

Like the pavement.

He loves you like a concrete block.

Not everyone made it into the house.

The others still live on the street

and visit him at the open window

where he pushes against the screen

and calls to his brothers after nightfall.

Hail Mary

Published August 6, 2018 in Jack Sprat , Marianne - 0 Comments

Hail Mary

The cactus flower bloomed the night she called.

“I’m going to Italy,” said Marianne.

“For how long?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.”

“Where?”

“Florence.”

“I always wanted to go there,” said Jack, hoping for an invitation.

“I need some time away.”

“That’s a good place to paint.”

“That’s what I was thinking.”

“What happens to us?”

“I love you, I’ll always love you…”

“That sounds kind of final…” said Jack,

realizing for the first time it was over.

He winced and threw a Hail Mary.

“Marianne, they know. Someone dropped a dime on us.”

Recipe

Published August 4, 2018 in Mikio - 0 Comments

Recipe

The cucumber had died, suddenly.

In the heat.

Mikio had tied it up with

strips from an old torn sheet.

To keep it off the ground

so it would’nt mold.

He got one good cucumber off

the vine.

And two tomatoes, ripe just right.

Look at that yellow with the green

of the cuke.

The collard greens were flowering,

tasty, added them too.

To season, basil flowers

and the olive oil infused with garlic

and salt,

left over from the grill.

Bigfoot Erotica

Published July 31, 2018 in I Don't Even Know - 0 Comments

Bigfoot Erotica2

He had a hard on,

running through the forrest.

He was randy, he was hairy,

and he wanted to put his rugged,

rock hard pine branch

into some juicy, wet crotch.

(Tree crotch, I meant.)

Bigfoot caught Big Ankles

and they made hot, passionate love.

Where he was once chasing her,

she turned the tables

and ran after him,

his dick and balls dragging

on the forrest floor.

(Over pine needles and moss.)

////////////////////////////////////////

Actual Bigfoot Erotica, written by  the poet laureate of the Bigfoots,

Alonzo Longfellows, he was a poet and he didn’t know it,

but his feet

sure showed it.

Grilled Cheese

Published July 31, 2018 in Pete Nieves - 0 Comments

Grilled Cheese

Pete ad his wife had 6 kids.

Last thing they needed was a dog,

so they adopted a German Shepard puppy.

After having it for about a month,

it started acting strangely,

wouldn’t eat, lethargic,

growled when you rubbed his tummy.

Finally broke down and took him to the vet.

$500 later an X-ray showed that

he had swallowed Xenita’s doll, whole.

“We’ll have to do surgery to remove that”

said the vet, “Or he’s going to die.”

“How much will that cost?”

“About three thousand dollars.”

“I don’t have that kind of money.”

The kids were beside themselves.

Pete wanted to give him

a special last meal.

Thought about cooking him a steak,

but he couldn’t bring himself to spend that much

on a dog was going to be put down anyway.

So they made him a grilled cheese sandwich.

Next thing you know he’s jumping

up and down at the door.

He runs outside and takes huge dump.

Out pops the doll, and he’s as good as new.

“Three thousand bucks” said Pete,

“All we had to do was feed him grilled cheese.”

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